Page 58 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

It was a weird high summer, not quite dark sky, even at almost 2 a.m., with black bulbous clouds mounting and an eerie pinky-orange glow low on the horizon. She lay down on the back seat, and hugged the little dog to her, both of them tucked under the car rug. It wasn’t so bad. She’d be able to drive off again in a few hours, and catch up with some more sleep back at her little cottage on the mainland. If only she’d had a bloody boat … Home probably wasn’t even twelve miles away as the crow flew. She thought of her comfy double bed, in her low-ceilinged cosy bedroom. Oh well, she’d get back there soon. All she had to do was let herself relax.

At 3 a.m., Lucy still hadn’t slept one wink. Her hunched position lying on the rear seat was cricking her back, and her feet felt … well, did they actually have any feeling right now? Her toes appeared to be the only things that had gone to sleep. They didn’t feel like they belonged to her anymore. Daisy was shivering in her lap, bless her. Hmm, perhaps she could run the engine to keep them warm for a while, but then she might doze and be left with no fuel left to get back home with. And, it might gas poor old Jack with exhaust fumes. Poor old Jack, who was probably snoozing soundly in his lovely warm sleeping bag …

And then plink, plink, pling, pling, PLINK, PLINK, PLINK. A thousand pins were clanging on the metal roof above her. She’d never heard rain like it. Mind you, she hadn’t ever been out in a rainstorm sat in a truck at bloody 3 a.m.

BOOM! A huge and unexpected clap of thunder vibrated through the vehicle, followed, within seconds, by a zig-zag of lightning that seemed awfully close. Too close. Wasn’t lightning attracted to metal? And … wasn’t she just sat, basically, in a metal box with little Daisy, who was now quaking on her lap, bless her. Oh, shit.

The next quake of thunder made Lucy start so much, she nearly jumped out of her skin. It sounded like it was right above them. With that, the tent’s zip came down, and Jack’s head popped out, lit silver by the next sheet of dramatic lightning. She spotted his arm poking out of the tent, beckoning her in. He was shouting something, but there was no way she could hear a thing in this. The arm still beckoned. If she went out now, she and Daisy would be soaked to the skin in seconds. She sat still as more thunder rumbled through the air and shook the vehicle. What was the worst eventuality? Getting frazzled by lightning or having to share a tent with Jack?

And then there he was, stood by her car door in, hah, just his boxers and a fleece top, rattling her door handle. ‘Come on. You can have the sleeping bag. Bring Daisy. Run!’

Rivulets of rain were already streaming down his face.

‘Come on,’ he repeated, ‘what are you waiting for? I’m getting piss wet out here!’ He sounded frustrated now.

Another boom of angry thunder.

‘Okay, okay.’ She hugged Daisy to her and more or less fell out of the truck. Gloopy mud sucked her feet into the dank field, as a wild wind whooshed at her and rain spat wildly, stinging her face. In seconds, she was soaked through, and then she, with Daisy in her arms, was clambering into the tent, with Jack piling in after them, zipping it up in one swift motion, the wind and rain pummelling at the tent sides.

‘Wow,’ was all Lucy could manage.

In the light of the torch on Jack’s phone, taking in the dripping hair and ends of noses, wet eyebrows and sodden clothes, the pair of them looked like they’d been stranded at sea. Even the furry black-and-tan coat of the little dachshund was drenched. Daisy gave herself a good shake, followed by a shiver.

‘Hey, it’s going to be colder staying in those wet things than getting out of them,’ Jack declared, as he stripped off his fleece and T-shirt in one swift motion.

Was he expecting her to follow suit? She glared at him as much as she could in the half-light of the tent.

‘You can’t climb into the sleeping bag like that, you’ll get it soaking,’ he continued, firmly.

Ah yes, she knew his game, alright. ‘I’m fine. You can have the sleeping bag.’

‘You are not fine. In about five minutes you and Daisy’ll be freezing and suffering the effects of hypothermia. Get out of those wet clothes and climb into the bag; it’s still dry. And, it’ll still be a bit warm from me, right now.’

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But then, weirdly, that thought made her feel a bit wobbly inside. The warmth of a man’s body was a distant memory these days.

‘Wet stuff off, then hop on in.’

She gave a sigh … it made sense but …

‘Jeez,’ he tutted, then turned purposefully away, ‘it’s not as though I can even see in this light. I’ll turn off the torch.’

Stripped down to her undies, damp clothes now left in a pile near the tent entrance on top of his, she clambered into the sleeping bag with Daisy tucked under her arm. It was warm and cosy. Ahhh.

‘What about you?’ she whispered, feeling slightly guilty now, but certainly not guilty enough to give up her quilted cocoon.

‘I’ll be fine. There’s more meat on my bones than yours, and I do have a blanket in here too.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Jack left a respectful few centimetres between them, as he shifted, trying to get himself comfortable beside her. There wasn’t a lot of room to distance in a two-man tent. He rolled up his damp fleece and put it under his head as a makeshift pillow.

‘Night, Luce.’

‘Night.’

It took a while for Lucy to doze off with all the booms and cracks still going off like elemental fireworks around them, and the odd silver flash illuminating the inside of the tent, but then the storm began to ease. The sound of the slowing rain became rhythmic, almost comforting.